Changes
by Boann
Summary: Once again, Alex finds himself on a mission for MI6. But when someone he thought dead reappears in his life, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey Alex Rider fans!**

**In light of the premiere of Stormbreaker, I decided to post a new AR fic! Trust me, updates will be plentiful, but they will also be heavily reliant on the reviews I get, so please don't hesitate to review!**

**Boann xxx**

The bitter cold wind blew mercilessly across the ice covered Lake Agnes. From his position amongst the mass of trees surrounding the giant lake, Alex Rider shuddered against it. Although he was wearing clothing designed to protect him from the cold, it seemed the wind knew just how to slip down every fold and crevasse to bite his skin.

On his stomach in the snow, he peered through the lenses of a pair of pocket binoculars and spied his target. It was a large compound surrounded by a high electric fence. Guards patrolled the boundary, some holding dogs on the end of leashes. Zooming in, Alex couldn't pretend not to see the AK-47''s strung over the guards' shoulders.

_Yeah, 'just routine'_, he thought bitterly.

As much as he had tried to elude MI6, it seemed they were always on his back. This time it was Mrs Jones who found him. He didn't mind her so much, but he still hated her for pushing him into going on another mission. This one, she said, was just routine. Nothing dangerous. He was supposed to be investigating rumours of a weapons factory operating north of Manchester.

"Nothing needs to be done that will put you in any danger," Mrs Jones has assured. "We just need to know if these rumours are true. If they are, you need to report back to us and we'll take care of the rest."

Knowing he had no choice, Alex had agreed. Now he lay in three-inch deep snow, absolutely freezing. Dressed in thermal military gear, he was hardly visible from his position. He had travelled that morning from a small motel in a village about nine miles away. It had been a difficult journey, one that he hadn't dared attempt on foot. It was easy to get lost in this industrialised town, and the thick snow and harsh weather could be life threatening if that happened.

But now he faced a problem far greater than the journey here.

Lake Agnes was no puddle. It was a wide open area, one in which Alex would stand out like a sore thumb, even in camouflage. There was also another danger. Although it had been cold for a long time, Alex was uneasy about the reliability of the ice covering. It was hard to tell where it was safe to walk and if he fell into the below-zero water, there wouldn't be any chance of him making it back to the motel.

But after lying in the snow for a few hours, Alex had found a possible way in. Every hour, a truck with the name "Jacobson and Paul" written on the side would pass through the highly guarded gates of the compound. The inside of the truck was always searched and the drivers were always screened, but the underside of the truck was never touched. Alex just had to find out where the truck came from and if there was enough room under the truck to hide himself.

With his next move decided, Alex stood up, stretching his numb limbs to restore blood circulation. He snapped to attention when he heard a twig snap behind him. Whipping his head around, he scanned the area, but couldn't see any sign of movement.

_Probably a rabbit,_ he thought.

Stowing his binoculars in his pocket for the moment, he decided to take a closer look. Lying back down, he commando crawled slowly out of his hiding place. He felt terribly exposed, but it seemed that, so far, nobody had noticed him.

It wasn't long before something else caught his attention. Grabbing his binoculars, he focused on where the truck that had just entered had stopped. Men were rushing around it, unloading boxes from it. The boxes looked heavy. Could they be filled with weapons? He needed to get closer.

Alex crawled further until he reached the edge of the lake. He stopped when he heard something behind him again. He blinked through the wind, but could see nothing. Turning his attention back to the compound, he continued to crawl. He was about one third of the way across the lake when he heard a groan. He knew the groan hadn't come from him; it had been the ice he was lying on.

Alex heart rate increased. He saw his mistake now; he should have stayed at the edge of the lake and worked his way around. The closer he got to the centre, the weaker the ice would become. He had been so focused on rushing and getting this over with; he'd nearly killed himself in the process.

Sighing, Alex carefully slid to the side and began to make his way to the bank. It was beginning to get darker and he knew that he had little time. This made him increase his speed. Suddenly he heard the dogs start barking and it was with dread he realised he had been spotted. The feeling was intensified by the whine of an engine. He froze. The engine was coming from behind him. He turned his head to see a shadow moving towards him. He raised a hand to shield his eyes to get a better look. Up ahead, the dogs were still barking and were let loose. But his attention was focused on what he could now see was a man on a jet ski. Jet ski's? In Manchester? That was something he'd never seen before. And the oddness of the situation increased the feeling he had that this wasn't friendly. It must be a patrolman.

Alex forced down the sheer panic threatening to explode within him. He got to his feet and ran the rest of the way towards the edge, back towards the trees. The ice groaned threateningly beneath him, but he ignored it. The Jet Ski was gaining on him; he could hear the rumble of the engine. It seemed the driver wasn't following him directly, aware that the Jet Ski would be too dangerous to ride on the ice. Instead he was following the edge of the lake, hoping to intercept Alex.

Alex ran harder. The dogs' barking was getting louder. The Jet Ski was only metres away on his right. He wasn't going to make it! He was trapped between the dogs and the patrolman.

Suddenly the driver called to him. "Alex!"

Alex stopped in his tracks, stunned. The Jet Ski was closing in, but Alex resisted the urge to run. He could see the man's face now…and he couldn't believe it.

"Yassen?" he exclaimed.

No! The man in front of him was dead! Alex had watched him die! What did this mean? Was Yassen working for this "Jacobson and Paul"?

"Alex!" Yassen called again.

Alex was trying to work out why he was still yelling. Then, the ground shifting underneath him explained why. He had stopped on soft ice and before he could move, it collapsed beneath his feet, plunging him into the icy water. The shock to his body caused him to inhale, drawing nothing but water into his lungs. He couldn't feel anything. He didn't know which way was up. His muscles refused to obey him. Spots danced in front of his eyes. As he gave in to the darkness that beckoned him, a pair of strong hands embraced him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thankyou soooo much! Your reviews were fantastic! I'm so happy this story got the thumbs up! Please keep it up, your enthusiasm and envouragement is what will keep this story going!**

**Boann xxx.**

Alex's mind was a blur. He had no clue as to his surroundings or what was happening. He remembered the hands that had lifted him out of the water. He had been carried somewhere and the next thing he could remember was the rumbling of an engine beneath him. He had been so cold. The next time he came to, he was being stripped of his clothes and wrapped in something warm. He thought for a moment he saw Yassen Gregorovich above him, talking to him, holding him. But he knew it was a dream. Yassen was dead.

Yassen was telling him to do something.

"Breathe, Alex!"

_Breathe? Why? Wasn't he breathing now?_

He tried to, only to be welcomed by his lungs screaming and his body convulsing. He was rolled onto his side and something kept hitting his back, forcing water from his lungs. After that, he'd been greeted once more by the cold darkness.

This time he awoke quite comfortably. The surface he was lying on wasn't cold. His body was no longer racked with shivers and he could breathe a lot better. He felt something on top of him and embraced the warmth it gave him.

"Alex?"

There was that voice again. Why did he keep hearing it?

"Alex, open your eyes."

Why? He was comfortable like this. Here it was warm and peaceful.

"Alex!"

Something held his shoulders and shook him gently, forcing him to open his eyes. For a moment he thought he was dead…or dreaming. Yassen Gregorovich stood over him, his piercing blue eyes observing him critically. He blinked a few times, expecting the image to disappear, but it didn't.

"You…dead?"

The words stumbled from his lips as a whisper, but as they did, he felt something choking him. His lungs hurt and he gasped for air, but something was blocking his airway. He panicked, but Yassen sat him up, one arm around the front of his shoulders and the other patting him on the back.

"Come on, Alex, get it out." Yassen's calm composure was a strong contrast to Alex's.

He coughed, struggling to get oxygen. Spots danced in front of his eyes, dangerously. Suddenly the pressure in his throat was relieved as water spluttered from his mouth. More followed and each time it did, Alex found his breathing improved. Yassen's actions seemed to help him until finally the crisis was over and he sagged in Yassen's hold.

Yassen gently lay him back down. "I had a feeling you still had water in your lungs," he remarked.

He must have noticed Alex's look of confusion, because he smiled softly. "Yes, it's me, Alex."

"No…" Alex struggled to say. "You died. I saw you die."

Yassen smiled sadly. "I wasn't dead. I came to shortly before the police got to the plane and managed to get to a hospital," he said.

Alex frowned. "How? That place was crawling with-"

"Alex, try not to strain yourself with trying to understand everything now," Yassen interrupted. "You've had a rough day and you're fortunate to be all in one peace."

This turned Alex's attention back to the earlier events. "What happened? Why did you have to blow my cover?"

"Alex, you were spotted. I was trying to help you," said Yassen.

Alex remembered slowly. "Yeah," he said, stupidly. "I heard you, you know. You were moving behind me. What were you doing there? Are you working for them? Are you still with Scorpia?"

Yassen held a hand up to cease Alex's questioning. "I will tell you everything as long as you promise to calm down."

Nodding, Alex inhaled deeply, before listening to Yassen's story.

"Once I was discharged from hospital, I returned to Venice, to Scorpia. I have indeed returned to my work. I have an assignment here to…" Yassen paused. "That isn't important. I was monitoring the compound when I saw you ahead. At first I didn't realise it was you. I made some noise so that you would turn around so that I could see your face. Once I realised it was you, I followed you at a distance. You were crawling towards the compound. I tried to get your attention again to make you realise that you were in a dangerous position, and for a moment it worked. But the dogs started barking and it was too late for you to hide."

"I figured the only way I could save you was to reveal myself. But I didn't exactly count on you running from me. But now I think about it, it was the only reaction I should have foreseen."

"I thought you were one of them," Alex admitted, sheepishly.

"A wise assumption," commended Yassen. "I'm only sorry the ice didn't hold out."

Alex cringed at the memory. "I was too caught up in getting everything over with to realise my mistake," he said, softly.

"Are you still working from MI6?"

Alex was surprised by the question, but he nodded a yes. "In a manner of speaking," he said bitterly.

Yassen said nothing.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," was Yassen's reply.

Alex sighed. "Well, whatever the reason you were there…thanks."

Yassen nodded and put a hand on Alex's forehead. "Your temperature's back up, that's a good sign."

"Where am I?" asked Alex, only just becoming aware of the fact that he was in a bed.

"A rented cottage not far from the village," replied Yassen. "Did you have accommodation of some sorts?"

Alex nodded. "A motel in the village."

"Well, lets just wait until you're back on your feet and we'll work out things from there," said Yassen, standing.

"Umm…thanks," murmured Alex, not really sure how to accept Yassen's hospitality.

"You'd better get some sleep," said Yassen, walking out of the tiny bedroom.

Alex snuggled back down into the warm blankets, thoughts churning inside his head.

Why was Yassen here? Why didn't Yassen want to tell him _why_ he was here? With Yassen a member of Scorpia again and Alex working for MI6, did that mean they were on opposing sides? But if that was the case, why did Yassen save him?

Was it because of his father?

Yassen didn't know the truth; that John Rider had been working as an undercover agent at Scorpia. Yassen still thought that John had been an assassin. But what if he ever found out about the truth? Would he kill Alex?

Whatever the case, Alex knew he couldn't stay with Yassen. It was too dangerous for both of them. If Scorpia found out that Yassen was with him, they might kill him. After all, Scorpia couldn't have forgotten the mess that Alex had made with Invisible Sword.

For his and Yassen's sake, he had to leave.

Tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thankyou to all of those who sent reviews, it's nice to know people are enjoying this fic. Remember, the more feedback I get, the faster I update!**

**Boann xx**

Alex slept the rest of the day, only waking when Yassen brought him some soup in a mug. After that, he pretended to sleep. When the small clock in his room read 1:35am, he rose from bed, a little stiff and sore. Shivering in the cold air, he got dressed back into his newly dried clothes and stood at his bedroom door, listening for any sounds of movement. Certain that Yassen was asleep, he crept out into the cosy living space. Outside, the wind threw snow at the windows. Alex knew that it was quite a walk to his motel room, but he couldn't stay here.

Wrapping his military coat around himself tightly, he opened the door and flung himself into the storm. The snow battered him from every angle and for a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He was shaking fiercely and no matter how tightly he pulled his coat around himself, the wind seeped through mercilessly. He hoped he was going the right way- otherwise this could become a long walk.

Lights in the distance pinpointed the position of the village. If he could get there, he'd be ok. However, the path was difficult to navigate. The darkness and the snow in his face made it difficult to see. Eventually he stumbled and fell face down, banging his head on something hard. He held a hand to the top of his forehead and felt the wetness of blood.

Scrambling to his feet, which were now numb, he continued forward. He was shocked when something grabbed him from behind. Alex cried out and immediately struggled, trying to pry what he realised were hands off him. He heard a voice scream into his ear over the wind.

"Alex!"

It was Yassen!

_No!_ A voice inside Alex's head cried.

But Yassen was too strong for him and, in a vice like grip, turned him around and marched him back to the cottage. Alex couldn't feel his limbs anymore and his heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. His head lolled backwards on to Yassen's shoulder. The wind bit at his face and for a moment he lost his footing. The only thing that stopped him from falling to the ground was the strong arm Yassen had around him. Before long, Yassen opened the door to the cottage and they both stumbled inside.

Yassen slammed the door shut. "Damn it, Alex!" he cried, leaning against the door briefly before moving to the fireplace.

Alex couldn't move. He'd crumpled to the floor on entry and now sat with his back against the wall next to the door. Yassen got the fire going and strode into the kitchen, putting the kettle on.

He and Alex didn't exchange words.

Alex panted and shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. He had failed. He was freezing cold, his head throbbed dully and what's more, he was scared. He was brought back to the present by Yassen, who knelt in front of him, looking straight at his eyes. Alex looked down; he couldn't meet Yassen's penetrative gaze. Yassen held him under the arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Take your coat off and sit down," he instructed.

Alex didn't have the strength to protest. He shrugged off his coat, dumped in onto the floor and sat stiffly in one of the couches in front of the fire. The flames danced at him and soon he began to feel their warmth. Yassen joined him, sitting beside him and holding out a mug of tea.

"Drink," was his instruction.

Alex took it, but didn't drink. Instead he placed the mug down on the small coffee table in front of the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to the fire.

"Alex."

Yassen's voice was stern and demanded attention.

"Yes."

"Look at me."

Alex looked away. He knew the truth was about to be forced from him, and if his predictions were true, it was the end.

"Alex, is there a reason for all this? I offer you friendship and hospitality and you run out into a snow storm?" asked Yassen.

Alex's breathing became harsh. "I couldn't stay," he murmured.

"Why, Alex?"

Alex looked down at his hands, over which he was nervously pulling the sleeves of his black sweatshirt, "I can't tell you."

Yassen sighed and placed his mug on the coffee table beside Alex's. "Do you trust me, Alex? After all I've done? Why did you run?" he asked softly.

Alex stood up. "Listen," he said, facing Yassen, who looked slightly surprised, "We're working for two different organisations; people who want to kill each other. It's just best we stay out of each other's way."

Alex folded his arms, still shivering. He knew that Yassen wouldn't be content.

"Alex, I know our sides have their differences. But you have to understand that I don't want to hurt you," Yassen told him softly.

Alex's shivering increased. "But you don't know, you don't know what happened!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Calming down, he started over. "My dad was not the man you thought he was."

Yassen stood, which made Alex step backwards. "What do you mean, Alex?"

"I can't explain," said Alex, weakly.

"Yes, you can, Alex. You are the only one who can," said Yassen. "Tell me who your father was."

Alex hoped he wouldn't regret his next words. "He worked for MI6," he said.

Yassen smiled and shook his head, "No, it's ok Alex. Your father _pretended_ to work for MI6. He went undercover-"

"NO!" Alex cried before Yassen could say anymore. "_Scorpia_ was is cover! He worked for MI6! He wasn't an assassin! All his jobs were staged! He was a spy!" he exclaimed. "Like me…" he added softly.

The look on Yassen's face was a mixture of hurt and shock. Alex could feel tears welling in his eyes. This was it. He signed his own death sentence. He didn't know whether to run, or fight. He just stood there waiting for the axe to fall.

But to his surprise, Yassen didn't express anger, instead he said. "Whatever it was your father was doing. Whoever he was working for, he was my best friend. He saved my life. Do you understand that, Alex?"

Alex felt his tears drip down his cheeks. "I found Scorpia. Like you told me to. They used me, just like MI6. They tried to kill me."

Yassen's face was unreadable. "Why, Alex?"

Alex was stunned at the question. He'd never actually thought about it before. "I don't know," he whispered, "Even before they found out I'd gone back to MI6, they betrayed me."

Yassen didn't move. "Did they train you?" he asked.

Alex nodded, "A little. More tests than anything. I didn't have the assassin instinct. I couldn't kill."

Yassen nodded. "We will dwell on that later. But for now, let us go back to the main problem. Why didn't you talk to me? Why did you run?"

Alex started shivering again, despite the heat of the fire behind him. "I thought you would try to kill me when you found out," he said. "And if Scorpia found out I was with you, they'd kill you too."

Yassen walked toward him, putting two hands on his arms gently. "Alex. Do you remember what I told you on the plane?"

Alex frowned. "To find Scorpia and find my destiny," he replied, not seeing where this lead.

Yassen shook his head. "Before that. When I told you about your father?"

Alex tried to think. "You…you said that…that you loved my father and…that you loved me."

He looked up at Yassen. "I don't understand."

"What I said doesn't change simply because your father and I worked for different sides. I know in my heart that the friendship he offered me was real," said Yassen.

Alex continued to shiver. "But what I did to Scorpia. I chose MI6. Doesn't that change anything?" he asked.

Yassen shook his head. "We all make choices. You will suffer the consequences of that choice in time. Just like I will suffer the consequences of taking you in."

Alex looked up at him in surprised. "But what if Scorpia-"

"I'll take care of it," interrupted Yassen. "But right now, let me take care of you."

Alex couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was so exhausted and so cold, maybe that was why his head felt so muddled. His head throbbed harshly, causing him to cringe.

"Come here, sit down," Yassen instructed.

He manoeuvred Alex onto the couch. "Hypothermia in the afternoon, then close to it again that night. Alex, we're going to have to teach you a little about survival in these conditions," he said lightly, removing Alex's damp sweatshirt. He produced another one, slightly larger, which hinted that it belonged to him, and threw it over Alex's head. Yassen tilted Alex's head up. "Now, let's have a look at this," he said, inspecting the gash on Alex's forehead. "Feel nauseas or dizzy at all?" he asked.

Alex closed his eyes. "A little nauseas, but mostly tired."

Yassen cleaned the wound for him and gave him some more clothes to wear until they managed to get the rest of Alex's luggage from Alex's motel room.

"Why do you look so worried, Alex?" he asked, gently.

"I guess it's because…I don't know what will happen to us. What about Scorpia, or MI6 for that matter? I'm going to have to report back sooner or later and when I do, what will happen? You're risking your life for me and I…I don't want to see you die again," Alex told him.

Yassen was silent again.

Alex got up and went back to his room, where he fell to sleep almost instantly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone, sorry I took so long to update. Here's the next chapter. It's a bit long but I couldn't cut it halfway through. This is the first Alex Rider...action sequence you could call it, that I have written, so let me know what you think!**

**Boann**

The next morning, Alex was still anxious to leave. Once he had showered and dressed into his old clothes, he went into the kitchen where Yassen was stood, silently watching the world through the small window over the sink.

"Umm," stammered Alex, not really knowing how to start. "Well, I'd better…go now…"

Yassen didn't move.

"Thanks for everything. Good luck," said Alex, turning to leave. His hand had barely touched the door handle when he was stopped.

"Alex."

Alex turned to Yassen, only to find that the assassin had still not moved a muscle.

He waited for Yassen to speak.

"You should stay here," he finally said.

Alex was confused. "You know I can't."

Yassen looked at him. He sighed. "Tell me what it is exactly that you plan to do."

Alex's frown deepened, suspicion adding to his confusion. "I'm not sure I should tell you. We're on opposing sides, remember?"

Yassen turned back to the window, closing his eyes briefly. "Alex. If you go back to that compound, you…"

"What?" asked Alex, his hand resting back on the doorknob. "Look I have to go. We both have jobs to do."

"Exactly," Yassen murmured, almost to himself.

Alex was still confused, but he'd made up his mind. Turning the handle, he opened the door and walked out of the cottage. He lingered for a moment, trying to work out what Yassen had meant.

Alex had returned to his motel room a little dazed. But he pulled himself together. He still had a job to do and the sooner he did it, the sooner he could leave.

But a part of him didn't want to leave. He'd found Yassen, a man who was, for him, a link to the past. A man and a link he thought he had lost. He didn't want to give that up.

But the rational part of him was reminding him of what would happen to both of them if they were found to be together again. MI6 would not let him get away so easily. Scorpia would not accept them as long as they were alive.

Alex found he was pinned. He had sat on the floor of his room for at least an hour, his back up against the wall.

Finally, he pulled himself up, grabbed his gear and walked back outside. He went downstairs and grabbed a phonebook, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

Jacobson and Paul: Specialist Retailing. 

Noting the address and slamming the book shut, Alex set out.

Within the hour, he had reached his destination. Jacobson and Paul was the kind of company that could have easily been ignored. Their complex was simple. A single building amidst a compound full of trucks. The only thing that caused suspicion to Alex was the security. A patrol booth. Two guards carrying guns. A high fence topped with barbed wire. A little excentric for a village shipping company. But not so excentric for a company trying to hide something.

He remembered seeing so many of those trucks passing through the warehouse he had been watching the previous day. Something was definitely happening here, and it seemed like the best place to start. The vegetation around the compound was dense and provided easy cover. But Alex knew he needed to get onto one of the trucks. From within the compound, an engine roared to life. A truck was about to leave. Alex had an idea.

Abandoning the compound, he raced back, retracing his steps to the road. Ducking down by a large bush, he dug into his backpack and grabbed a packet of bubblegum Smithers had given him. Popping a strip into his mouth, he waited for the truck. The sound of an engine signalled its arrival. As the truck approached, Alex spat the gum onto the road. The truck ran over it and there was a loud pop. The driver pulled the truck to a stop.

Alex watched from his hiding place as the driver, a well build man with receding brow hair, jumped out. He cursed as he examined the tire and, just as Alex had hoped, went around to the back to get a spare. Alex did not move. He waited until the driver changed the tire and went back to the rear of the truck to dispose of the tire. Then he ran. Pulling the roll neck of the sweatshirt under his black jacket to cover his nose and mouth, he rolled under the truck and carefully pulled himself up under its belly. He knew this was going to be risky and difficult.

Very soon, the engine spluttered back to life and the truck began to ease forward, or backward, in Alex's case. As the vehicle gained speed, Alex's arms and legs began to struggle under the strain. Alex shut his eyes as dust and grit flew at him in all directions. Suddenly, his right leg, curled around a support, slipped and for a terrifying moment, he thought he would fall. But slowly, the truck slowed to a stop. Voices could be heard and the roller door was rolled up. More voices ensued and someone tapped the side of the truck. The truck moved again, stopping after a few seconds. Everything grew quite dark. Alex guessed they were indoors. The truck finally stopped and the engine was cut. As relieved as he was, Alex knew he couldn't move until he was alone. Feet shuffled around him, and he heard more voices, though this time much more distinctive.

"Get out the stuff!" called one.

The door was opened and people climbed into the truck, causing it to jolt. He could see more feet hovering around the truck. Two pairs stopped to his right.

"You got your stuff. Where's our money?" asked a voice.

"Your company will be fully compensated once all of the goods have arrived, Mr Riley," said another.

"I thought you said-"

"You do want compensation, don't you Mr Riley? It would be most unfortunate if Mr Banks was forced to question your loyalty to this operation."

A pause.

"I understand."

"Good. On your way."

Alex had only just realised the roller door was being closed. He needed to move. Gently, he lowered himself to the floor. To his left was a wall, where wooden crates sat. As soon as the rest of the feet had disappeared from his view, he rolled over to them, ducking behind one just as the truck started and slid away.

Alex took this opportunity to take in his surroundings. He was definitely in a warehouse of some sort. Crates lay strategically against he walls. The feet he had seen belonged to men dressed in a range of black military clothes.

"Get moving! Mr Banks wants things ready by tonight!"

The voice he recognised as the man talking to Mr Riley. It belonged to a tall, bald man with a tattoo on the back of his skull. Alex took in the AK-47 hanging over his shoulder.

The man strode over to an elevator. The doors opened and he was gone. Alex knew he had to get into that lift. The men were congregating in one corner of the warehouse. One of them opened a door and led the rest of them out. Some were reaching into their pockets for packets of cigarettes.

_Perfect_, thought Alex.

He ran to the elevator, keeping close to the wall in case he needed to hide quickly. There was only one button on the elevator, so he pushed it. But before he got in, he ducked over to the corner where the men had been. One of them had left his jacket draped over one of the crates. Slipping it on, Alex went into the elevator. When the doors opened again, he found himself standing in a long hall. There were two doors at the far end. Alex pressed his ear against one, through which he could hear voices. He listened against the second one until he was sure he could hear nothing, and opened the door. The room was only small. A desk and a laptop sat at one end. At the other was a large glass window. Alex crouched down, peering over the frame. His eyes narrowed at the sight before him. Guns, hundreds of them, were being sorted on the floor. Some were standing on racks. Alex noticed that the guns on racks bore a red strip around the butt.

Strange.

His eyes swept over the scene. The men handling the marked guns were wearing white jumpsuits. They were handling the weapons very cautiously. Why?

Alex didn't care to investigate that little detail. He had found what he had been looking for. He had to contact MI6 and then he'd be back home.

It then occurred to him that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. He'd work that out once he got back downstairs. He reached to open the door, when suddenly, the knob turned and the latch clicked.

Someone was coming in!

Alex was well and truly stuck. He had no choice but to flatten himself against the wall as the door opened. A man walked in, not closing the door behind him. Although the door provided him with some cover, Alex didn't dare move.

But his curiosity got the better of him and slowly, he peered around the door.

The man who had entered wore the same clothes as the men who had been unloading the trucks. Only this one wore a black beanie. He strode into the room, casually, stopping only to glance out of the window.

No, not out of the window. _At the window._

Alex's eyes widened as he saw himself reflected in the glass. He made to bolt out of the room, but the man was quicker. He slammed the door shut before Alex could blink. Alex stopped when the man's face was revealed.

"Yassen? What are you doing here?" he gasped.

Yassen's face was expressionless. "I told you not to come back here, Alex," he said, softly.

"I told you, I have a job to do," Alex replied, stubbornly.

"So do I," said Yassen, almost sadly.

Before he knew it, Yassen had pinned him up against the door by the throat.

Alex gasped. "What are you doing?"

Yassen said nothing, instead he sent his flat hand at Alex's head, sending him into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about the long wait everyone. I've just finished university for the year, so chapters will be much mroe regular now. Thankyou to all of you who voiced your support and encouragment-I'm so happy you like this story! Kepp those reviews comin'!**

**Love Boann**

His head hurt. That was all he knew.

Alex couldn't see, but he soon realised it was because the room he was in was pitch black. He was lying on his side on the hard floor. As soon as he became aware of the cold, his body began to shiver. He slowly sat up, ignoring the pounding of his head. Memories of the recent events came back to him without warning and he groaned.

He had been so stupid. Yassen had said he was still working for Scorpia. Of course that could have only meant trouble for Alex.

But his own naivety didn't quell feelings of betrayal.

The one person he had felt close to. The one person who could have possibly understood. The one person who could give him a link to his past. It meant nothing anymore.

Feeling out with his hands, Alex found a brick wall and leant against it to steady himself. It was cold, but he didn't care. The cold served as a distraction from the pain in his head.

When a door above him opened and light flooded the room, he jumped. He could now see that he was in a basement, probably that of the cottage Yassen was staying at. Yassen stood in the doorway. He turned on the light and closed the door behind him, walking down the steps.

Despite the daggers of light that stabbed through his eyes, Alex looked up to give Yassen a cold look.

Yassen stared him in the eye. Finally Alex looked away.

"Why do you look at me as if I have betrayed you?" asked Yassen.

Alex fixed his eyes on the floor. "Everything you told me was a lie, wasn't it?"

"Not entirely, Alex. And if I lied to you, I did so with good reason." Yassen told him, coming closer towards him.

"I warned you not to go back there," he said. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

Alex didn't answer. He cringed as the pain in his head grew, but wiped the expression away.

Yassen walked up to him so that he was only a few centimetres away from him and crouched before him. "I'm sorry for what I did. That headache must terrible. But trust me when I say that your fate could have been far worse."

Alex frowned, thinking. His thoughts brought him back to an earlier conversation.

"_Alex. If you go back to that compound, you…"_

"_What?" asked Alex. "Look I have to go. We both have jobs to do."_

"_Exactly."_

"I was your job," he said, dully. "The whole time, it was me you were after. You were sent to kill me."

Yassen shook his head. "Not entirely. I was sent to kill the agent sent by MI6. I was to stop them interfering. I didn't expect it to be you."

Alex grew tired of this. "So do it, then. Do your job," he said, coldly.

Yassen looked at him. "If I was doing my job, you would be dead," he said.

Alex looked up at him.

"Alex, I won't kill you. But I cannot let you interfere," Yassen told him.

"What do you mean?" asked Alex. "How could I interfere?"

"If you were to contact MI6 and tell them about the warehouse, they would shut it down, yes?" questioned Yassen.

Alex nodded.

"If that warehouse gets ransacked by MI6, the manufacture of the weapons will cease. And my client does not want that to happen," Yassen explained.

Alex frowned. "What's so special about the weapons? There has got to be more going on if they're so important."

"They are biochemical weapons, Alex. Normal firearms with very special ammunition. They are modified to carry bullets containing bacteria responsible for the worst forms of the most common disease. The common cold," Yassen explained. "Gunshot wounds can be identified and treated. But once these bullets are used, there is close to no chance of survival and no one would know what had gone wrong."

Alex's frown deepened. "But normal bullets are still lethal. Why go to the trouble of making these?"

"They are for the elite, Alex. For people who want to hide assassination. You see, the bullets are very small. Most people would not even know they were hit until it is too late. This way, assassinations can be played down as saddening incidents. For example, the President of the United States' assassination would cause plenty of entanglements. But if he were to die quite naturally of a common disease, it would make everything far less complicated."

"So, as you can see, I won't kill you, but I can't let you get this information to MI6 either. So until the time comes…" Yassen cocked his head to finish his sentence.

Alex shook his head in disgust. "So, the whole thing with me was a joke, right? Trying to keep me here was a distraction? All that stuff you said about my Dad…"

Alex fought tears. He closed his eyes as the throbbing in his head returned.

Let me look at that," said Yassen.

Alex pushed his hands away. "Get off me. I don't want anything from you!" he spat.

Yassen remained calm. "Alex, I'm not going to hurt you."

"If you meant that, you'd let me go," said Alex.

Yassen shook his head. "I can't do that," he said, standing up. "Now come with me. I'll take you somewhere more comfortable."

Alex ignored him.

"Do you want to stay here. It gets very cold at night." Yassen warned.

Alex didn't move.

Yassen said nothing more as he left the room. Alex heard the door lock. He stood up, grabbing the nearest object in the room, which happened to be a tin of baked beans, and threw it at the door. He grabbed his head as it spun and choked back a sob.

He felt so lost.

Hours passed and Alex still sat alone against the wall. The temperature in the room had dropped considerably and his felt half frozen. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep what body heat he had from escaping. His headache was getting worse. Tears rolled down his face.

He was alone. He was trapped.

As he had sat there, he had been thinking.

He had realised that he had been betrayed by everyone in his life. MI6 were using him. Scorpia had tried to kill him. And the most painful of all; Yassen had betrayed him.

When Yassen had returned to his life, Alex hadn't felt so alone. He had someone who was watching out for him. Someone who was willing to help him, maybe even love him.

But above all, someone who could understand what he was going through.

Although he had friends like Jack, Sabina and Tom, he could never open his heart to them and he knew that both of them were powerless to have any effect on his life.

But Yassen had been different. His relationship with John Rider had given him the persona of a godfather, of family. Although Alex knew that they could not stay together forever, but it had been comforting to know that there was somebody out in the world whom he could call to for help.

Somebody to give him hope.

But that had been taken away.

What was he supposed to do?

Go back to MI6? Be a spy?

By now, he knew his fate was sealed. He'd never be normal. But to have nobody to offer him some support during that life was terrifying.

Resting his head back against the wall, Alex could feel himself drifting towards blissful unconsciousness. Whether because of his headache or the cold, he didn't know. But he welcomed it.

He drifted for a while, until he became aware of someone at his side. They were holding his shoulders and pressing a hand to his cheek occasionally. His head lolled; he felt too tired to move. The hand on his cheek crawled up to his brow and fingers were trying to lift his eyelids. Suddenly Alex felt nauseas and flopped sideways, vomiting on to the floor. He felt ready to die.

"Come on Alex, come with me. Stand up."

His arms were being tugged, then his shoulders, until he was lifted off the floor. Someone was carrying him, murmuring to him not to struggle. Alex didn't care. He'd had enough. Nothing mattered anymore. He was too tired to think.

Suddenly he was lying on something very comfortable. Something soft was placed under his head and a blanket was draped over him. The room was very warm. Flames were crackling in the fireplace. A hand was rubbing him, done his shoulder, arm and side. Another rested gently on his forehead. Then the hand moved under his head, lifting it up. Alex let out a groan in protest, wanting to go back to the softness. A cup of some sort was held to his mouth. The liquid it held was hot and the shock caused Alex to choke and cough it back up.

He looked up, wanting to know where he was. It was then he saw Yassen's face. Yassen was holding him. Yassen was making him drink something. Alex pulled away feebly, but he was held firmly.

"Its alright, Alex. I'm not going to hurt you," Yassen told him.

Alex closed his eyes. His head was burning but his body was cold. Why did his head still hurt? He felt dizzy and he wanted to throw up again. He tossed his head weakly, letting out a pleading moan. Yassen seemed to understand and lay him back down. Finally, Alex slipped into blissful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

He was so warm. It was glorious. The warmth protected and comforted him. He didn't want to return to the cold reality that awaited him. But then the bed's side dipped, signalling that someone had sat down next to him and Alex opened his eyes.

It was then he discovered that he was not in a bed at all, but rather the living room sofa. A pillow was under his head, a warm blanket tucked around him and the fire was lit. It looked like it had been that way for a long time.

Yassen sat next to him, a glass of water in his hand. Alex's heart sank and he looked away. How was it the Scorpia assassin always seemed to find opportunities to mother him?

"How are you?" Yassen's question was brief and to the point.

"What happened to me being your prisoner?" asked Alex, tiredly.

"You suffered a concussion. It's unfortunate that I inflicted it. I hope this shows you how serious the situation is," said Yassen, gravely.

Alex sighed. He was sick of it. Why was he even here? This was none of his business. Normal boys would be at home playing Nintendo or at school, not spying on weapons manufacturers and dealing with one of the world's most deadliest assassins.

He couldn't care anymore.

"I won't go to MI6. I won't try to escape," he said tonelessly.

"I'm glad to hear it," Yassen responded. "But you must understand that you're going to have to stay here until my assignment is complete."

Alex nodded. Yassen held out the glass of water, which he took and sipped.

"So what's going to happen after that?" he asked, tentatively.

"Ah," Yassen murmured. "I was thinking about that. You said that Scorpia betrayed you and tried to kill you, is that correct?"

Alex nodded, but still mistrusted the man. "Yes."

"And you know as well as I do that Scorpia doesn't forgive its enemies unless there is something worth letting you live for," Yassen mused.

"I don't want to go back to MI6. I can't do this anymore. I don't care!" Alex said, the weight lifting off his shoulders for a moment.

Yassen nodded, thoughtfully.

"There's nowhere left for me to go, is there?" Alex murmured, more to himself.

For the first time, Yassen gave him a small smile. "You're John Rider's son. They'll always be somewhere for you to go. Things may become difficult, but in analysing life, you must also consider the positives, Alex."

"How the hell would you know?" demanded Alex, wiping the smile off Yassen's face.

Yassen looked bewildered. "I don't, but Alex, you must try to-".

Alex sat upright, discarding the water. "No! I don't even know you! You've lied to me, you've kidnapped me and you've tried to kill me for your own sick revenge-

Yassen glared. "I never tried to kill you, Alex."

"So sending me right to the very people my Dad betrayed was some sort of sick game to you? Just like the bullfight in Saint Pierre? You were testing me? Seeing how long I would last?" Alex fumed. He wanted to throw everything he had at Yassen, and he had no intention of ceasing just yet.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about me and my life, so don't you dare try and warm me over!" he yelled.

He waited for Yassen to lash out, to strike him full force, but instead the assassin just stared at him. This frustrated Alex even more, and he got up from the couch. He marched over to the kitchen, grabbing a large kitchen knife from the drawer and standing in front of Yassen, who hadn't even moved.

He held the knife to Yassen. "Go on then," he challenged. "Enough games. Let's just get this over with, shall we? You know you want to. What better way to get revenge on your best buddy?"

For a long moment in time, the only sound that penetrated the silence was Alex's laboured breathing. Yassen didn't even look at him or the knife.

Suddenly, as fast as a snake, Yassen ripped the knife from Alex's hand and leapt on him, pushing him up against the fireplace and holding the knife at his throat. Taken completely by surprise, Alex choked for breath, as the heat from the still burning fire stung his back.

Yassen looked him in the eyes and all Alex could see was the cold, cruel man within. Yassen was no longer himself. He was a blank page. A being with no pity or remorse. The knife gradually sank deeper against Alex's throat, causing him to gasp for breath. Something warm trickled down his neck. His own blood.

Suddenly Alex realised that this was to be his last moment. Staring into the eyes of his killer. Then, as quickly as he had attacked, Yassen withdrew, the knife still in his hand.

"John Rider betrayed us all," he said with a voice full of hate. "But his betrayal to Scorpia was nothing compared to his betrayal to me. He had been my mentor, my guide, and in some instances, an elder brother to me.

"I withdrew from him. I put thousands of miles between us so that I wouldn't have to face him again. I felt humiliated, taken for a fool. But then the memories I tried to block became too powerful and for a brief moment, I was taken back in time.

"I was only young. It was my first kill. To me, your father was a god and I was blessed to be under his instruction. We were on an assignment in the jungles of the Amazon and I got into a tricky predicament that would have been the end of me. It was your father who saved me. Your father who, being who he was, should have taken advantage of such an easy elimination."

Yassen threw the knife down on the coffee table, causing Alex to grimace at the dull clatter. "It was then I realised, Alex. I realised the truth. Despite what he did, your father was a good man to me. Why would he have taught me everything he knew about killing if he only intended on bringing me to my knees? Why would he have saved me in the Amazon that day?"

Yassen strode over to Alex, looking him in the eye. "How could I call myself a man if I did not repay him somehow? He may have betrayed Scorpia, but it is only the organisation I work for. He did not intend to betray me personally. It was the lesson he used to drill into me everyday. In this business, nothing can get personal."

A silence ensued. Alex stood rock still, unable to move, let alone process what Yassen had just told him. There were a million questions he wanted to ask. There were a million things he wanted to say. But he couldn't speak. Instead he nodded, staring at the knife that lay forgotten on the coffee table.

Yassen seemed to see it fit to change the subject. "I brought your luggage from your motel room," he said, picking up the knife and replacing it back in the kitchen drawer. "You are welcome to use the bathroom and freshen up."

Still too stunned to respond, Alex gingerly sat up, stretching his stiff legs. Grabbing some fresh clothes, he went into the bathroom and stood under a hot shower, relishing the water beating down on his shoulders and back.

When he finally walked back into the living room, he found Yassen laying out two plates of eggs on toast on the coffee table.

"Thanks," mumbled Alex, plonking himself down on the sofa and tucking in sheepishly.

"So, how exactly are things going to work until this blows over?" he asked, through a mouthful of egg.

Yassen drank from a mug of coffee. "I thought this would be a good chance for us to spend some quality time together," he said with a mischievous smile.

Alex returned it as best he could, but he was still unsure. There were too many unanswered questions. There were too many loose ends. But after a while (although he still didn't see the point-after all, they'd probably never see each other again in the future) he participated in the conversation. Though Yassen avoided the subject of his work, he reminisced John Rider, much to Alex's silent appreciation.

"He never talked about his family. It wasn't suitable in his line of work, obviously. I only found out about your existence after his death," Yassen shared. "But from the moment I first saw you, I knew you had to be his son. You look so much like him, Alex."

That got a smile from Alex. "MI6 didn't tell me much about my Dad. Funnily enough I learned more about him from Scorpia, even though most of it was a lie. Julia Rothman told me that my Dad was their best. She told me that to have his son on their side was a triumphant achievement," he scoffed. "But if they saw me with you, they'd probably kill the both of us."

"Well, Alex," Yassen raised an eyebrow. "You and your father did leave quite a mark."

Alex gave a half-hearted laugh. "So did they," he said, his hand unconsciously drifting to the top of his chest, just beneath his shoulder.

Yassen frowned. "May I?" he asked.

Though he was uncomfortable, Alex unzipped his jacket and pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving him in his grey vest. Yassen's fingers drifted over the scar left by the bullet.

"Aimed at the heart," he stated. "A standard method of assassination. How did you survive?"

Alex reluctantly lifted his right arm to show the exit wound. "I walked down a step just as the bullet hit me. It ricocheted off my rib. An artery was hit, but it closed off by itself. Apparently kid's blood vessels do that. It was the only thing that saved me from bleeding to death," he explained, his voice suddenly very quiet.

He redressed and looked Yassen in the eye. "What _would_ they do if they found out?"

Yassen shook his head slightly. "I told you not to worry about that," he said, rather gently.

Alex couldn't believe it. "Stop treating me like a kid, Yassen."

"You _are_ a kid, Alex," Yassen said, sternly

"I'm not an ordinary kid and I'm not stupid," Alex challenged. "What are you going to do? Go back and tell them you killed the MI6 agent, then go on like nothing has happened? Like none of this matters?"

Yassen said nothing.

To Alex, this was the only sign he needed. "You and I both know that as soon as this is over, you're not going to hang around. And then everything will be back to the way it was. You'll be dead again," he said, standing up and retreating to the bathroom. He locked the door and sat on the edge of the bath, his head in his hands.

**Reviews encouraged and welcomed!!!!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh My God! **

**I lost count fo the amount of reviews I received! Thankyou so much to all of you! I'm so happy you're enjoying the fic. To be honest I didn't really have much faith in it at first, but now I'm determined to have it finished for you. (And, after this one is completed, "Scorpion" as well!) There's another plot turn in this chapter (kinda getting like a round-a-bout isn't it?) which I would love for you to give me feedback on!**

**Thanks again guys!**

**Boann xxx**

Alex didn't come out of the bathroom for a long time. He didn't want to face Yassen again just yet. But soon, the bathroom revealed itself to be quite chilly and Alex was once more yearning for the warmth of the fire. The thought of giving Yassen another excuse to mother him again was enough to make him leave the bathroom and retreat back onto the sofa. The room was thankfully deserted.

He curled up on the sofa and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before he heard Yassen's footsteps as the assassin entered the room. Alex didn't move, pretending to be asleep in hope of avoiding another conversation. To his relief, Yassen walked past him and began busying himself in the kitchen. Alex continued his façade. He didn't know what it was Yassen was doing and he didn't care. He decided to try and get some more sleep. He rolled over, as the heat of the fire grew too hot on his face, letting out a deep sigh as he did so.

He must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next time he opened his eyes, the room had grown slightly darker. The fire was now barely smouldering and he was alone.

He slowly sat up when he heard Yassen's voice coming from the Russian's bedroom. Gently, he crept towards the door, and as he did, Yassen's words became clearer.

"You do not need to remind me how important my assignment is. I am fully aware of what will happen if I fail." A pause. "The boy is of no concern to me. I am just doing my job. I know how much this means to Scorpia, but without the boy's trust, I can hardly act on the matter. I depart from Manchester at 1030 hours tomorrow, and I will have the boy with me."

Alex was horrified at what he had just heard. Scorpia knew he was here! And Yassen was handing him over! Once more, he had been played.

But what did this mean? If Yassen was only keeping him here so that he could take him to Scorpia, was the assignment involving Jacobson and Paul merely a cover? No. He had no doubt that something was going on in that warehouse, whether or not Yassen and Scorpia were involved in that was irrelevant. What mattered is that he was about to be abducted, and if his predictions were correct, he would not be alive for much longer afterwards.

Suddenly, Yassen moving around in the room brought him back to reality. He leapt back away from the door and resumed his position on the couch. It was important that Yassen didn't realise he had uncovered the truth. He made it just as the door clicked and Yassen strode into the room. Yassen stopped right beside the couch. Alex fought to keep his face emotionless, to feign sleep.

It must have worked, because Yassen moved away, turned off the light, and returned to his bedroom.

Alex knew what he had to do. He needed to get away. He needed to call for help. But how? Yassen had no doubt taken the mobile phone he had been issued by MI6. If he called the police, it would be futile. Who would believe a fourteen-year-old boy with such a ludicrous story?

The only thing he could do now was run. To put as much distance between Yassen and himself as he possibly could. He would need to get back to London. Somehow. Slowly, he rose from the couch once more, slipping on his shoes and an extra jacket. He walked to the front door, but then paused.

Yassen had known he had left the house the last time he had tried to escape. If Alex had any hope of succeeding, he had to find out how. He looked around the room, trying to find something in the dim light. Suddenly something caught his eye.

It was only small and very well concealed, which would explain why, in his haste, he had missed it the first time. It was a sensor. One half of it was attached to the bottom right hand corner of the door. The other half was attached to the wall next to the door, so the two halves were touching. Alex now understood. When the door opened, the two halves would be separated, which would trip the alarm.

_Yassen must have a signal device with him that alerts him whenever the door is opened,_ Alex thought.

But how was he going to get out?

The windows were too small, even for him, and there were no other doors. His only option was to somehow deactivate the alarm. Trying to find Yassen's signal device would be impossible and would waste valuable time.

_There must be some way to jam it from here._

He lay down on his stomach in front of the door to inspect the switches more closely. They were definitely electrical, and they didn't look very complicated structurally.

What would disrupt the electrical signal? Alex mused. He craned his head to see just how the switches were connected. He saw it. A small magnet kept the two switches joined when the door was closed. Anyone who opened the door would pull the magnets apart, severing the connection and triggering the alarm.

Alex got up off the floor and scanned the kitchen. It took him only a few seconds to find what he was looking for. A fridge magnet. It was a clip inscribed with _'Manchester Holiday Cottages'_. Perfect.

I hope this works, he thought as he lowered himself down to the level of the switch once more. Steadily he placed the magnet onto the side that was connected to the wall, then got to his feet.

Slowly he eased the door open, making sure the fridge magnet stayed where it was. He could only hope and pray as he closed the door behind him and started trudging into the night, Yassen's words ringing in his ears.

_You know as well as I do that Scorpia doesn't forgive its enemies unless there is something worth letting you live for._

Miles away, at MI6 Headquarters, Mrs Jones stood in front of Alan Blunt's grey desk, her arms folded. She nervously sucked on a peppermint.

From his chair, Alan Blunt peered over the folder he was reading from. "This information has been verified?" he questioned.

"Absolutely. It's unbelievable, but it's true. Yassen Gregorovich is alive, and what's more, he's in Manchester. He must have survived Eagle Strike," Mrs Jones reported.

Alan placed the folder on his desk. "That could be a mere coincidence. Gregorovich may have nothing to do with the suspected weapons manufacturers," he said.

"That is highly unlikely in itself," agreed Mrs Jones. "But the fact that Alex Rider is also there leaves little room for speculation. This cannot be a mere coincidence. Yassen Gregorovich has a connection with Alex. He could be planning anything."

Alan frowned, a rare show of expression. "But Alex said that Gregorovich revealed warm emotions towards him. That he said his relationship with John Rider had given him a sense of responsibility for Alex's welfare. Why should worry if he is indeed in Manchester if he expressed these emotions?"

"Because no doubt Yassen is working for Scorpia again, meaning that Alex could be in danger. And if Yassen's assignment is to oversee the weapons manufacture, that only makes things worse," reasoned Mrs Jones.

"Mrs Jones, we have received no communications from Alex Rider. This does not tell us that he is in danger, nor does it confirm the presence of a weapons manufacturer in the area. Until we receive any form of communication from Rider, we can do nothing," Blunt told her, tonelessly.

"The fact that we have received no word from Alex could very well mean that Yassen has already reached him, or worse. We need to find him and bring him out. Let another agent investigate," said Mrs Jones, firmly.

"That would demand time that we don't have," said Blunt. "Alex Rider stays where he is."

Alex knew he had to work fast. It had been two hours since he had left the house and he was beginning to feel it. Trekking through the snow in the middle of the night, with very little sense of direction was proving fruitless.

He had to get in contact with MI6, but how he was going to do that was proving difficult to decide. He couldn't keep walking to London. That would take hours he didn't have. No doubt Yassen had noticed he'd gone and, if what Alex had overheard was indeed true, the assassin would waste no time looking for him.

For the first time in a long time, Alex was lost. He had no ideas. His only option was to keep walking and put as much distance between him and Yassen as possible.

And what of the weapons? He had no idea when or where the shipping was to take place. Suddenly he knew what he needed to do. With no way of calling for help, he needed to return to the factory. Despite the dangers, he needed to stop the bullets from being shifted.

Turning around, he began a steady jog towards the factory.


	8. Chapter 8

**Before this chapter proceeds, I wish to say two things.**

**1) My apologies for the delays. I am finding this story particularly difficult to finish and it may be some time before another chapter is posted, however I will try my best.**

**2) Thankyou! So many of you have reveiwed the story and constantly encouraged me to continue, despite how few updates have been lately. I really appreciate the reminders!**

**Boann **

By morning, Alex had reached the factory. Obtaining a way of entering the heavily guarded facility proved to be much more difficult, due to his exhaustion and lack of planning. Within an hour of arriving he managed to hide himself once again under the belly of a truck entering the area. Once inside, Alex faced an even bigger problem. The factory was buzzing with activity. As he clung to the underside of the truck, his heart sunk. He had no hope of moving around undetected for long and the clock was ticking. Yassen had said that he would be leaving Manchester at ten thirty in the morning, which would mean that the ammunition would have to be safe enough not to need protection. But where was the ammunition going? Until Alex knew that, he could do nothing to hinder their progress.

His mind wandered back to the office he had infiltrated two days ago and the laptop sitting on the desk. If he could access it, no doubt he would know everything, maybe even find a way to contact MI6.

But how was he going to get inside? Suddenly the truck rolled to a halt.

_No!_ cursed Alex. _I need to be closer!_

He froze as the driver got out of the cabin and met with a small group of men. The back of the truck was opened and a large trolley piled high with metal crates approached. The men began to load the truck as the driver walked away.

_It's now or never_, Alex decided. Hopefully the commotion would distract from his presence long enough for him to get inside the warehouse that lead to the office. Rolling from under the tuck, he walked quickly along the side of the truck, peering around the front. He could see his destination; the elevator in the far corner of the warehouse. The difficulty was getting to it. Men in black military uniforms swarmed over the area.

Luckily, Alex had one more trick up his sleeve, courtesy of Smithers. From within his jacket, he pulled a small remote control. He'd tried to protect it from the harsh journey by slipping it into one of his socks and thankfully his idea had worked.

"_Seen one of these before?" asked Smithers, holding out a small version of an Xbox controller._

"_Haven't all kids my age?" asked Alex, sceptically eyeing the remote. _

_Smithers chuckled. "I highly doubt that. Have all kids your age used a remote capable of controlling any vehicle it is connected to?"_

_Alex shook his head. "No."_

"_Detonation device included?"_

"_No."_

"_No."_

_Smithers removed a metal square the size of a matchbox from underneath the remote control. "Now this," he said. "Is the connection device. To activate it you simply attach it somewhere relatively close to the engine of the target vehicle. It is magnetic, so it should be relatively easy to find somewhere to put it. The device will emit a signal detectable up to twenty yards away. Now, to start the ignition, push the centre button, you use the top left hand gear stick to control steering, the blue button to accelerate and the green to brake. The yellow will activate the horn."_

"_Why would I want to activate the horn?" asked Alex._

_Smithers shrugged. "I don't know. I actually thought it would be rather amusing."_

_Alex had to smile. "What about the red button?" he asked._

"_The detonation device. This is the tricky bit. As I told you before, the range of the remote exceeds no more than twenty yards. However, the explosion you will create by pressing the red button will detonate an area of about a nineteen point three seven two yard radius. Therefore, be sure to stay more than nineteen point three seven two yards away from the detonation, but remain within twenty yards to avoid the remote failing to detonate on cue," Smithers warned._

_Alex raised his eyebrows. "Nineteen point three seven two yards?"_

"_Yes," confirmed Smithers, handing the devices to Alex and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. _

"_Not even nineteen point six nine two four or nineteen point eight three seven five…"_

"_This is why children should be left in school..."_

Perfect.

Opening the door of the cabin as quietly as he could, Alex dove inside, laying across the two seats and pulling the door closed with his foot. Pulling the connection device off the remote, he positioned it far down the box under the steering wheel.

Hopefully that's close enough to the engine. 

Checking the coast was clear, he slid out of the cockpit and crouched behind another stack of crates sitting close to the fence, giving him enough space to move further out of range if need be. As he pushed the centre button, the truck roared to life and Alex couldn't help smile. With a finger on the yellow button and his thumb pushing the gearstick forward, he sent the truck flying forwards, sending the men in the back tumbling out along with the boxes they had been loading. Suddenly everyone in the compound was in hysterics, trying to stop the possessed truck that was smashing its ways through other vehicles and crates. Gunshots were fired at the truck's tires in an attempt to stop it until a familiar voice boomed, "Stop shooting, you fools!"

It was the man with the tattoo on the back of his skull Alex had seen during his last visit. When some men proved too frantic to listen to his orders, he pulled his AK-47 out and let out a round of fire. Alex swallowed as the men dropped like dolls. But he couldn't get distracted. He had to get to the warehouse, which now lay empty. Whilst the runaway truck distracted the men, Alex ran into the warehouse, ducking behind a wall. Another three yards to the lift and the truck was already seventeen yards away. If it kept going, he'd be out of range. Steering the truck around, he drove it towards him, then sent it around again, heading for small outbuilding. Pushing down on the accelerator, he sent it careening into the building. Although it didn't explode, it sent glass and bricks everywhere. Without pausing to watch anymore, Alex bolted into the lift, sending it upwards. Stuffing the remote back into his jacket, he carefully made his way down the hall, relying his memory to take him to the office.

When he saw he was alone, he closed the door and strode to the laptop on the desk.

"I figured we would meet again soon."

Alex whipped around at the all too familiar voice. In the shadows stood a figure, but Alex did not need to see the person's face to know who it was.

"You have a knack for stalking me," he commented dryly.

Yassen smiled and emerged. "And you have a knack for being predictably noble," he said. "It will get you killed someday."

Alex's jaw set. "Ts that a threat?" he asked.

Yassen did not react to Alex's harsh tone. "I do not often make threats, but when I do, I keep my word."

"Your word?" hissed Alex. "What is your word worth? Everything you said to me, after everything I told you, after I trusted you and you still betrayed me!"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Yassen murmured, his face blank.

"You were going to turn me in to Scorpia the whole time," said Alex, his chest burning with the pain of betrayal.

Yassen face flickered for a moment. Alex desperately tried to read it. Confusion? Disbelief? Fear?

"You are of no concern to me anymore," Yassen told him. "It is time I did my job."

"And what is your job?"

Before Alex could react, Yassen pulled out a gun and held it at him. "Mr Banks wants to see you."


End file.
